Emmet Honeycutt Comes To Town!
by Errant Kitten
Summary: This is a "How they met" story...Fresh from Hazelhurst, Mississippi, Emmett had hoped to go to New York, but winds up in Pittsburgh, with no friends, family or cash...but then...
1. Chapter 1

October, 1996

FOR EMMETT, HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS (SADLY)

Emmett Honeycutt got down from the 18 wheeler's front seat, nodding politely at the driver. "Thanks again, I'm sure." Emmett tried not to let his lip curl.

"Hey, boy, what Ah had you do for me last night, I ain't no faggy, married seventeen years, but ever since Vacation Bible camp, Ah like havin' mah thing sucked-The trucker's harried rationalization was aborted as Emmett hurriedly shut the door of the cab and landed on his tippietoes in front of a Gulf station in where was it?—Ah yes, Pittsburgh.

After Daddy had pointed his gun at Emmett's head, the day after graduation (September, but Emmett had had to go to summer school for American Government class) and bid him to leave town, Aunt Lulah had given her hopeful nephew enough to get to New York ("Where you'll be more comfortable, darlin' though God knows what goes on there.") but someone had annexed Emmett's cash while he was slumbering on the Greyhound passing through Biloxi.

So it had been travel by thumb, paying by mouth (ugh) this far, and now Emmett was exhausted. Might as well spend a night or two in Pennsylvania, and try for the Big Apple tomorrow.

Emmett looked up and down the street. Where to mince off to? Could he actually ask where the queer street was? Oh dear. Emmett had about eighty-six cents in his pocket.

"You look confused, Missy."

Emmett bounced, and turned around. There was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen. Dark hair, full lips, very arrogant looking. Nice jacket—Armani, but Emmett's practiced eye could see that it was thrift store purchased. But there, he was carrying a textbook on business writing. A student.

Emmett smiled uncertainty. He knew nothing of Pittsburgh boys. Back in Hazelhurst, Mississippi, the men all wanted satisfaction, either by blowing you, beating you up, or one right after the other.

"Are you new to town? I saw you dance out of that trucker's cab. He looked kind of toothless." The beautiful boy smirked as he said this.

"Y-yes, I was hitchhiking, we—"

"No, I didn't believe you two were related." The beautiful boy turned his head lazily, and from down the street came a smaller kid, dark hair in a hopeless bowl cut, dressed in sadly, an ugly McDonald's uniform. You wouldn't think the two individuals would know each other, but the fry cook ran right up to the man-model, and they kissed, right on the mouth, right in the street where anyone could see…Boy the North was different!

The Mickey-Dees boy looked at Emmett questioningly. "New friend, Brian?"

"Mikey, I just saw this poor queen jump—or should I call him a princess…so young. This princess just jumped out of a hideous oil rig, with semen leaking from his mouth."

Emmett bridled haughtily. The semen, if there was any lingering, had died in his mouth four hours ago. "I-I should be moving on." Emmett did his best icy Barbara Stanwyck, and turned to leave.

"Hi. I'm Michael" Howdy Doody the fry cook said, sticking out his hand. "Welcome to Pittsburgh."

Emmett smiled and took the (greasy) hand and pumped it. But really, he had to be going. He could tell that Brian, the pretty one was primed with another insult.

"Where are you moving on to, Lady Jane?" Brian asked, as if he'd read Emmett's mind. "Are you teaching at a beauty arts academy here, or something?"

"I-I was on my way to New York but I ran out of –"Oh, it was so humiliating. To Emmett's horror, he felt his eyes welling up. It was over, wasn't it? His family hated him, the state of Mississippi hated him, shit the Deep South hated him and now…

Astonishingly, the adorable, insulting boy came over and put his arm around Emmett's shoulder. "I don't think you have any idea of where you're going, so we'll decide. Let's go get you some grits at the Liberty Diner…Mikey's mom can get them for you gratis."

Emmett wasn't sure that they could make decent grits this side of the Mason-Dixon line, but it seemed he had little choice. He linked his other arm with Mikey, trying to ignore the effect the grease stains would have on his mauve angora sweater, and the three walked on.

FINALLY MY ASS OUT OF THE GREASY MORASS

Ted Schmidt left the interview jubilantly. Thank God. Mr. Werthshafter didn't seem to notice, or ask any questions about Ted's personal life, and finally he was going to have a job. Finally.

For the past eight months, Ted had been a McDonald's cashier, and he knew why a lot of his interviews with accounting and finance firms had gone badly…they didn't like fags. Not that Ted was so "fey" but somehow people just knew.

Michael had gotten Ted into Mickey Dees, and it was wonderful working together…Ted really liked Michael a lot. But Michael's latest trick had turned him on to a possible stock boy job at the Big Q, which paid at least a dollar fifty an hour more than he was making at the fast food joint…and Ted would have been alone with all the bitter Pitt rednecks, doing the "Want Fries With That" again and again.

Now Ted could put his M.B.A. to use, and move out of the cramped apartment that he and Mike and Brian were sharing. It was a one-bedroom that they'd turned into a three-bedroom by putting curtains over the dining room and breakfast nook…but Brian, on scholarship at Carnegie Mellon, was horrible to live with…fussy.

Ted opened the door of the Liberty Diner, and looked towards the booth where his roomies sat, eager to tell them the news…who was that tall drink of water with curly red hair?

"Ted!" Mikey shouted. "Meet Emmett!"


	2. Chapter 2

BRIAN NEGOTIATES HIS TUNA MELT

"So that's good news, Theodore." Brian Kinney said, wiping cheese from his upper lip. "You no longer have to play piano on the register. And Mikey is quitting too. Where oh where will I get my free dalliances with Mayor McCheese? He was such a bear."

Ted scowled, but Emmett, the new boy giggled a bit. "You both work at McDonalds? I did two weeks at an Arby's once, but the manager and I had a thingie-poo, and his wife made me resign."

"It's so hard to imagine a fast food manager who's a homo." Michael said, shoving a Tater Tot in his mouth.

"Really, Mikey? From the corporation that advertised 'Special Orders Don't Upset Us?" Brian mused.

"That was their ad?"

"Oh yeah. In the Seventies. " Brian chuckled mirthlessly. "We were watching films in one of my classes. It went 'Hold the Pickles; Hold the Lettuce, Special Orders Don't Upset us, Have It your Way."

"Gosh, who'd hold the…" Emmett started

"PICKLE!" the rest finished.

Brian tried to look bored, but truly, his time with his friends was the best part of the day. Carnegie Mellon was a tight-ass school, and except for Lindsay…Brian was basically alone.

Competition was intense, not like in high school, and most of his "peers" were dickweeds, dickless dickweeds (Except for a sophomore Russian Studies major who'd blown Brian in the music room) and he was lonely.

Brian looked at Michael, talking with his mouth full. Mikey. Brian's best friend, since junior high. How Brian wished Mikey was there at school with him, but Michael had only a few community college credits and preferred Batman to Beowulf.

Brian looked up lazily at the door…oooh, hunky fellow delivering a case of Nehi, but probably straight—the only straight guy in the Liberty Diner—wait, wait, his clear hazel eyes were meeting Brian's. Perhaps a blue collar bisexual.

Brian was distracted as Emmett giggled loudly. "I don't know what I'll do for work, really." Emmett was telling Ted and Michael. "I failed second, fifth and ninth grades, although a lot of that was because I stayed home a lot to watch 'All My Children' with my Aunt Lulah."

Brian looked up again. Nehi stud had just handed a clipboard of some kind to Debbie, Mikey's mom and the soul of the diner. But there he was, looking up at Brian again. Those dimples!

"Well, I might be able to get you some hours at the restaurant." Ted was saying to Emmett. "I'm sort of the assistant manager until I quit to go to Werthshafter's."

Brian snorted. "Calling McDonald's a restaurant is like having Popeye be the centerfold in Drummer." Brian rose from the table and began walking slowly to the head. He looked behind him once, and was gratified to see the soda jock following.

DEBBIE'S SEEN IT ALL

Deb Novotny watched with a twitching lower lip as Brian Kinney twitched his cheeks and hypnotized the poor Nehi route sales guy. Shit. After Brian wouldn't see the bread guy again, they'd had to find a different bakery, and Deb had no idea where the next soda supplier could possibly be, here in a shit-hole like Pittsburgh.

"Don't worry, Deb, his buns weren't that good anyway." Oh, Brian thought he was a smart one.

Deb often wondered how she'd begun swimming through a world of gay men—and it had happened so soon! Vic, Deb's brother had begun modeling her dresses before either of them had made it out of grammar school, and then Danny Devore, Deb's high school sweetheart, had confessed to "feeling"s for men on their prom night. And he'd left a queer little bun in Debbie's oven before leaving town—Michael.

Now Danny was a famous drag queen somewhere in New York, and Debbie hadn't spoken to him in many years. She'd found a list of Vietnam casualties in the newspaper, and had chosen one of the names—John Michael Novotny—to be the father to the coming baby…and Vic had helped Debbie find work in—let's face it, a gay diner!

Mikey had grown up doing his homework in the diner, and if Deb believed that queerness was in fact a recruitable thing, perhaps he'd caught it here—but the gay men who bought her chip-beef gravy and the endless lemon bars were nothing but pleasant and kind—and Suellen, the waitress who retired last month—she'd had three sons who dropped by growing up, and they were straight as arrows!

Michael was gay, though, and Brian Kinney, the Scarlett O'Hara of Liberty Avenue, was Mike's best friend, and although Deb wasn't nutty about Brian's influence over Michael, she knew Brian had a great heart.

Brian had tutored Michael through school, and had once helped Debbie out with a mortgage payment with money he'd won playing poker with his dad's VFW buddies. "I spend enough time at your place to pay a little rent" the sixteen year old Brian had insisted, refusing any gratitude or talk of repayment.

And of course Brian had encouraged this new fairy, Emmett to come to the diner, the poor thing had just dropped off a truck from the Deep South. Deb knew Michael and Ted were talking about Emmett working at McDonalds, but she couldn't see Emmett rising high on French fry grease.

Fortunately, Debbie had a friend who went by Floyd during the day and Flora (or sometimes Fauna) at night, who was a floor walker at the local Macy's…he'd gotten more than one hapless twink a job pushing ties or shoes in the various departments, and would do so again, as soon as Debbie made the call, and arranged an interview.

But now Deb could see a number of annoyed male customers hammering on the men's room door. Damn that Brian Kinney!


	3. Chapter 3

NOT SO RAD, BRAD

Brad Fessenden III looked into Lindsay Peterson's eyes. He wasn't sure what was on her mind. Besides the fact that Bradley, Sr. was a partner in Lindsay's dad's firm, and that they were planning to take in young Brad as an associate when he finished law school.

Damn it, Lindsay was supposed to be part of the REWARD!

Brad was handsome, witty, and had broken a few hearts…why couldn't this beautiful blonde girl love him? They were MADE for each other.

He watched Lindsay sip her chai tea latte. What could he do? He'd looked at her paintings (Brad preferred a nice Leroy Neiman print) taken her to the ballet (women liked that) and generally tried to be a sensitive guy. "It takes time" Lindsay's father had said to Brad over tee-time yesterday. "Her mother was moody."

But she's dumping me because she wants to hang out with a college CAFETERIA WORKER?

As if reading his thoughts, Lindsay's fabulously full lips finally moved. "I feel a connection with Consuela, Bradley. Men, just…there's nothing there. I went to the therapist Mother advised, but in fact there's nothing there. " Lindsay paused.

"The shrink actually said 'If you've only tried vanilla, how do you know you won't like strawberry?' Well, I tried strawberry, Brad…we had a tumble in the sheets. I don't want to, anymore."

Brad smiled. "Lindsay, it takes time for a woman to reach orgasm. My Aunt Buffy didn't have one until she was forty-two…"

"But I've had orgasms, Brad. Tons of them." Lindsay smiled, looking over at a shy Mexican girl who was carrying trays. (Lindsay insisted on eating here) "Many, many, glorious orgasms. I know what I want."

"What…what will I tell your dad?" This was a last resort, but Brad had discovered in early childhood that tattling had its rewards.

"I don't know that it's any of his business, Bradley." Lindsay paused. "Even if he cut me off financially, I'm in my final semester, and have a small trust fund from Grammy, who loved me as I was, you know."

Brad shook his head. "I don't think it's got anything to do with the spic girl. I think it's him!" Brad pointed at a sullen looking tousle haired boy lounging by the Four Food Groups poster.

Lindsay's eyes brightened. "Oh, Brian!"

PLASTIC POTATOES AND ALL THAT

Brian had never seen so much of the damn cafeteria as he had since Linz had began stalking Consuela. They had to drop by, sit around pretending to study…and then Lindsay closed the deal, she and Connie were dating, and they STILL had to hang out here.

Brian was almost sure the food would kill him. The Salisbury steak resembled one of those slates that children in Puritan times scribbled on in the one-room schoolhouse.

Brian looked around the cafeteria. Oh yes, Chaplain Tunstall. Earnestly talking to some freshman Campus Crusade for Christ geek, hoping to get in his pants. Brian saw Tunny regularly at the Liberty Baths and was amazed at the clergyman's energy.

Reverend Tunstall, man of mystery. Constantly calling press conferences to "bring back moral values to our beloved university". squirting vats of ketchup on girls doing the Walk of Shame into the campus Planned Parenthood clinic, and yet, sucking every cock in sight.

Good God, there's Lindsay, sitting with a pudgy, balding prep, who looks like a calf about to be slaughtered. Fuck no, she's seen me. Waving at me. I don't want to come over there, Linz. I know what straight boys are like. Why would I want to—But of course, I must come over.

The only woman in the world with the power to tell Brian Kinney what to do, and she's a goddamn dictator with it. But Brian walked across the cigarette butt stained cafeteria, smirking at Tunstall and his zit-faced protégé, and finally arrived at Lindsay's table.

"Brian, this is Brad." Linz said brightly. Brad stood and offered a firm right hand, and Brian, after rolling his eyes theatrically, shook it.

"I am Lindsay's boyfriend, I've been eager to meet her other buddies. I go to Penn." Brad said all this as if it were a prepared speech on a 3X5 striped card.

Jesus, if she were straight, would this be the one to choose? He'd be laughed out of Babylon's Back Room, or chased with a can of Raid. "So nice to meet you, Brad. I've long been wanting to meet the guy who rings Lindsay's chimes."

Brian smiled as Linz's lovely face became enraged. Yes, we'll torture you a little bit. You didn't want to come as a date to my cousin's wedding because you thought I should be "out" and now…

"BRIAN! LINDSAY!" The shriek was heard across the cafeteria. The epicene Emmett Honeycutt followed by a large person in a black wig and a polka dotted dress that might have been fashionable in 1964, ran into the James Mellon Memorial Cafeteria.

"Emmett, what brings you to the hallowed halls of academe?" Brian asked with a smile. "Love the fuschia scarf."

Lindsay rose from the table and embraced Emmett. "You are really adjusting to the new town, honey!"

"Yes." Emmett said breathlessly. "This is my friend Godiva." Emmett nodded to the giant in the polka dot frock.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Lindsay said, remembering her manners. "This is Bradley Fessenden the Third."

"Oooh." Godiva said, with a frightening grin. "I believe I know your Uncle Wilbur. He used to blow me in his box at the Civic Lights Opera, that is, until Bradley the First had him committed to Somerset State."

"Grandfather…is…very old fashioned." Brad said, staring at Godiva warily.

"Linz, I've GOT to borrow the Dramatic Society's whalebone corset." Emmett said. "You did say that you'd owe me for helping with the costumes?"

"But of course, Emmett!" Lindsay said cheerily. "What do you need it for?"

"Godiva is in the running to be Miss Shemale America!"

As Bradley Fessenden III hurriedly exited the James Mellon Memorial Cafeteria, he decided that perhaps he would indeed present the diamond ring to the blue-haired waitress he'd been shtupping in Bruceton, but not before he found Lindsay's dad on the course and brained him with a nine iron.


End file.
